


and when it's bad (feels like i don't know which way i should go)

by argentae



Series: give me something (to hold onto) [1]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, golden trio trope times, i have a lot of feelings about sana and isak's friendship because it's amazing, no printers just fax, post That Friday's Clip, u know the one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 17:17:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10949124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/argentae/pseuds/argentae
Summary: It's Monday morning and Sana has been avoiding. Avoiding the girls and her brother and Yousef (her heart aches a little in her chest every time his name passes through her thoughts). She spent most of her weekend hauled up in her room under the guise of working on a biology paper (“Another one?” her mother had asked as she snatched a couple of slices of cucumber before moving back to her room. Sana pretended she didn’t see the carrots her mother was peeling.)





	and when it's bad (feels like i don't know which way i should go)

**Author's Note:**

> watch me click post and probably immediately see 12389 mistakes in this because it's 2am and i'm bad at proofreading. 
> 
> anyway, first fic for the fandom and first fic in a while so i'm kind of rusty and idk if i got the characterisation right but i hope i did all of these characters so dear to my heart justice in this small fic. also english isn't my first language so. there's that. if anything sounds really weird let me know! 
> 
> title from dear to me by electric guest

It's Monday morning and Sana has been avoiding. Avoiding the girls and her brother and Yousef (her heart aches a little in her chest every time his name passes through her thoughts). She spent most of her weekend hauled up in her room under the guise of working on a biology paper (“Another one?” her mother had asked as she snatched a couple of slices of cucumber before moving back to her room. Sana pretended she didn’t see the carrots her mother was peeling.)

But it’s Monday morning now and she knows she can’t keep ignoring everyone (but oh does she wish she could). The only two people she’s had contact with this weekend before putting her phone on silent are sitting with their heads bent together when she gets to class early. Her steps falter when she sees the bruises on one side of Isak’s face, when she sees the way Even’s gaze is just a little more shuttered while he looks at their hands. Isak is playing with their intertwined fingers, apparently talking quietly because a second later Even huffs out a smile and presses his forehead against Isak’s for a second in a gesture so silently intimate she both wants to look away and drink it all in. Even sees her when he looks up again, and this time it’s her heartbeat faltering because Even’s face lights up.

It’s not like she expected him to hate her. She _knows _Even, she knows he wouldn’t, but somewhere, something in her brain couldn’t believe he didn’t somehow blame her anyway ( _she_ blames herself anyway). She’d apologised to him over text, explaining how she asked the boys to come, how she should have told him beforehand. His _It wasn’t your fault, no worries___ didn’t really manage to ease her mind.

Isak turns around as well, giving her front row tickets to the show that is his face. She knows the fact that his face looks like someone spilled yellow and purple watercolour over it is a good sign, is a sign that he’s healing already, but she can barely stop herself from flinching. Isak himself, on the other hand, seems to relax when he sees her.

“ _Hei_ Sanasol,” he says, turning away from Even to get a better look at her.

“Time for me to leave, before you two start talking about biology and making me feel like an idiot because I don’t know what homeostatic breakdown is,” Even jokes, grabbing his backpack. She can’t help but consider the thought he doesn’t want to be in one room with her for too long (she wouldn’t blame him).

“He helped me with my flashcards,” Isak explains with a fond roll of his eyes, before he tilts his head up a little, silently asking for a goodbye kiss from his boyfriend. Even seems happy to oblige and Sana turns away, pretending she’s busy getting her notes out of her backpack. Even gives her a smile before he leaves, and she can just about swallow around the lump of her throat fast enough to return it.

When she turns back to Isak, he’s already looking at her and suddenly her heart is tearing apart at the seams (again). She had so carefully been putting it back together over the weekend, sticking the pieces where she thought they used to be (she’s pretty sure she’s messed it up - it feels like it sits wrong in her chest). The lump in her throat is back, so she messes with her notes and tries to remember how to breathe.

“How are you doing?” Isak’s calm voice pulls her out of her thoughts and she wants to cry a little. That’s exactly what he asked her after she’d texted him Friday night to check up on him. She hadn’t replied (which was probably answer enough for her biology buddy-slash-friend).

Part of her wants to tell him. _You got punched in the face and it’s my fault. The people I thought I could trust to have my back stabbed me in it instead. The boy I like kissed someone else. I don’t know how to deal with my feelings anymore. I don’t want to be here. I’m really, really tired._

Instead, she tries to joke, get out of giving a serious answer. She raises her eyebrows as she forces herself to meet his gaze and says, “You’re asking me? You’re the one looking like you had a too intense meeting with a piece of concrete.”

For a moment she’s afraid he won’t let it go, but then he sighs and shows her another one of his world-famous eye rolls. “Even said I look badass.”

“Even’s whipped,” she shoots back, unimpressed (relieved).

And well, he can’t really argue with that, so he huffs out a laugh and allows a short silence to fall between them before, “Sana.” His voice does that thing again, the thing where he sounds sincere and light at the same time and she knows he’s asking without wanting to push. _So much for letting it go._

Sana allows herself some time to figure out her options. Option one - tell Isak she’s all right. He won’t believe her, but he will let it slide for now. Counterpoint: he won’t actually let it slide which means he’ll bring it up again later (counterpoint two: she’s not sure she has enough energy to make the effort to lie). Option two - spill. She almost physically shakes her head as she dismisses that option, knowing she’s not ready to have this conversation and she’s _definitely_ not ready to have it five minutes before class starts. That leaves option three - no lies, just also no hard truths. No hard truths before 9am seems like a good code to live by, she decides.

“Been better.” She’s actually pretty proud of the way she pulls it off, complimenting it with a casual half shrug. _Look_ , it’s telling Isak, I’m fine, no need to worry, let’s move on. He isn’t fooled.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he reminds her. His tone is still light. She likes that about Isak. Neither of them is really good at dealing with heavy feelings. Somehow, somewhere along the way, in between the banter and the discussions, he’s become attuned to her and her feelings so well that he knows that this is exactly what she needs him to be right now.

“Yeah,” she mutters. “I know.”

He hums. Stays quiet for a second. “Hey Sana,” he licks his lips, fidgets with the corner of his messed up notebook. “I know you have the girls.” _Right._ “And I know we’re not. We’re just. You know. Biology buddies. But if you want to talk - whenever you’re ready to talk - you can. Talk to me, I mean.” He takes a deep breath, just a little shaky. “And also you have a standing invitation for dinner at our place. I’ll make Even cook something good, promise. He’s been trying out all these recipes from a vegetarian cookbook his mum gave us when he moved out. We can study and then eat together or something.

“And that’s not a- a trick or something.” he adds quickly. “We don’t talk if you don’t want to talk so. No pressure, you know.” He huffs out a breath, then gives a little nod with his head as if to indicate he’s done with his little speech.

Now how is she supposed to react to that? In the end, after a good five seconds of deliberation, she decides on a simple nod back.

Isak seems to realise she isn’t sure what to do next, how to move on from this, so he fixes that situation elegantly by unashamedly peeking at her answers for the mock test they had to make. “Eh, there’s no way 3C is correct. It’s so obviously A. I thought you said you were good at biology?”

And just like that she can breathe again. “Excuse me?” she replies indignantly. “It’s _definitely_ not A.”

Nothing is really okay yet. She still doesn’t know what she’s going to do during lunch - she doesn’t want to sit with the girls, doesn’t think she can face them yet, but she also knows she can’t avoid them without rousing suspicion. Her heart still aches when she thinks of the girls, thinks of Noora, thinks, inevitably about Yousef. Someone still got punched and it was at least in part her fault. But, somehow, the words _whenever you’re ready_ and _standing invitation_ and _no pressure_ unravel some of the previously so tight knots in her stomach. She’s not sure she’s ready to take him up on the offer but it’s there and she doesn’t doubt its sincerity for a second. That’s the thing with her biology buddy - he’s straightforward when nothing else in her life is. She likes the feeling of security that comes with it.

As they fall into an easy back-and-forth, and the classroom fills up with other people, Sana allows herself to entertain the thought that her heart feels just a tad lighter now.

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me on [tumblr](http://minjard.tumblr.com) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/argentae)!


End file.
